Many delvers claim the Ashen Wanderer as one of their own. They say he walks their path, embodies their strength, validates their archetype. The mysterious figure known as the Last Light—or Torchface or Bagman, as his detractors like to refer to him—is said to be as lethal as an elite Vanguard with a spear. As resilient and proficient with a shield as a veteran Warden, as resourceful and versatile as a grand Seeker, and as stealthy and practiced with his Veil as a Shadow. But rare are those who’d claim he is a modest Torchbearer. Or at least, if they thought it, they wouldn’t speak it. Unless it was to other Torchbearers.

  - Gilberath, Seeker of the Pale March

  As he slipped under the haymaker that whistled above his head and as the wind buffed his hair, Miles noted the slight twist of Ashirruk’s hoofed foot and his eyes narrowed. He had been waiting for it. He’d died to it once. Wait… no. He had died to it twice. The first time it had caved-in his chest. The second time he had managed to guard against it, but it broke both of his arms and basically ended the fight right then and there. But this time?

  You’re not fooling me a third time, buddy, he thought with a smirk, stepping away as he called for his mana and activated one of his Skills.

  [Slipstream Step] was like a powerful gale at his back, bolstering his step so much that Miles blurred away long before the hoofed kick that could have punched through metal reached where he’d been. Skidding to a halt against the black marble of the challenge floor, with his heart hammering in his chest, Miles let out a sigh of relief. “Almost had me there,” he called out to the demon.

  The demon shot him a hateful glare, teeth gnashing as he picked up the sword Miles had knocked out of his hand, and for a second, Miles thought of the games he’d spent his summers playing and how easy it had been to beat certain bosses. Especially when you fought them often enough. Their moves became telegraphed and easy to see through, and you could even get through the fights without taking a single hit.

  “It’s definitely a bit scarier to face a big bastard like you in real life, though. Do you know about videogames, Ashirruk?” Miles asked while he refreshed the defensive enchantment of his shield. His spear shone with pure, ethereal blue-white lights as he aimed it at the horned demon’s heart. He was pretty sure the demon couldn’t understand him as he’d never had any of the Dungeon-created bosses answer him, but his words were pissing him off and that was all Miles needed.

  He needed him to stay predictable and as expected, Ashirruk roared as he held his giant, jagged sword high above his head, the weapon shining with malevolent red light. A familiar, terrifyingly destructive move that would have toppled the whole chamber if it hadn’t been created by the Dungeon itself.

  But it was a move that took a few seconds too long to be ready.

  Miles blurred forward with another [Slipstream Step], and with an activation of [Giant’s Strength], he plunged his spear through the incredibly tough hide and into the demon’s heart once more as he shouted, voice echoing in the stadium-wide, torch-lit chamber.

  “Lock him! Now,” he ordered as he blurred away once more.

  A verdant green circle lit up under the stumbling demon, and a swarm of bramble and vines surged out the black marble, wrapping themselves around the monster’s limbs with whip-like cracks that echoed in the room. Before it could recover, Miles lunged forward again and plunged the spear a few inches below its heart, where its core would have been, then detonated the mana Starseeker had been accumulating.

  Blue-white lights flared out of the many bleeding holes that riddled Ashirruk’s body. His eyes and mouth shone with the same light as it roared in pain until finally, the first of the blood-red symbols drew themselves on its body, and Miles’s heart soared as he sent his shield and spear back in storage before he jumped away and this time, he didn’t hold back, and his leap carried him nearly 50 yards away.

  As the familiar pattern shone brighter across Ashirruk’s weakened and bound body, and as the red-horned demon howled out his last breath, Miles landed all the way across the challenge room, only a few steps from the giant locked doors he’d entered through. He stared, his smile frozen as he panted for air. Fatigue crept through his limbs while the humanoid demon whirled, struggling in vain against his bindings. His eyes roved about wildly until finally, the damage proved too much, and the boss’s shoulders sagged.

  Ashirruk’s movements grew sluggish, and the jagged, machete-like sword clattered on the ground. The demon howled in frustration, spittle flying as his voice reverberated in the room. He tried to get himself closer to Miles, but the vines wouldn’t give. It was too late. There was no putting the genie back in the bottle, and the suicidal spell was already activating.

  The howl died in his throat as the shining red light surged from within his body. His core was most likely already cracked, and a moment later, the demon disappeared in an ever growing, humming orb of red and black destructive lights that would have obliterated Miles right then and there if he hadn’t been all the way at the other side of the room.

  He had died to that suicidal Skill twice already.

  Well, the first time I didn’t know, he thought as he let out a long breath. The second he managed to sever my leg so I wouldn’t get away. And let’s not talk about the dozen times I didn’t even notice his movement and died before I could injure it once. But this time… this time, I win.

  Miles sat down on the black marble floor. A smile stretched across his lips, and his shoulder shook as he chuckled. With a shaking hand, he wiped the blood off of his face and even when he grimaced from the protesting, sore muscles of his shoulders, he didn’t look away from the destructive orb. He kept waiting for the dust and wild magic to part so he could confirm the boss was dead, and after a few more seconds, he saw the blue, foggy orb drop out of the ceiling, lighting up the space, and he let out a slow breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

  “It’s done…” he whispered, as if to convince himself. It was done. The Dungeon was bestowing its reward, and already, a gold, mist-like light was floating toward him, confirming that finally, Ashirruk, the Final Howl, was dead.

  “Congratulations are in order, aye?”

  A smile stretched across his lips as he glanced to his right, where the hunched form of Hazel peered at him from a few paces away. With her warform dispelled, she sat cross-legged on the stone, unbothered, despite the magic spilling from her cleaved chest and missing arm. Her jade-green eyes gleamed beneath a crown of branching, flower-decorated deer horns, their polished bone catching the bright light of his hovering reward. Even severely injured, she was equal parts striking and unsettling. The latter was likely because he owed her less intelligent copies so many of his early deaths, he mused, recalling those years for a shuddering second. They had not been pleasant deaths.

  Pushing the thoughts away, he grinned at his summoned companion. “Missing a few limbs there, Hazel. I would invite you for a celebratory drink but I don’t think you could handle it right now,” he said, and she barked out a laugh. His smile softened. “Take a rest old friend. We’ll celebrate later.”

  A raspy chuckle escaped the witch’s throat as she looked at the approaching cloud of magic. “And miss your moment of victory? I would never. At least I’ll be able to tell George about it. And rub it in that he died first,” she added, eyes twinkling. Because of course she would.

  Miles shook his head and chuckled as Ashirruk’s Overflow—the gold-like mist he had earned from triumphing over a stronger monster—slipped into his stomach, and closing his eyes, he turned his vision inward. “Give me a sec.”

  “Take your time. It’s not like I’m dying or anything.”

  “You’re literally immortal,” he retorted as he closed his eyes. Miles sighed as his core appeared in his vision, an orb of swirling, shining white light hovering in an infinite starry space, like a pale sun, and as the Overflow swirled around and past the orbiting Skills, Miles braced.

  Would this be enough to push him to the next tier?

  Narrowing his focus on the exterior of his core, on its structure and not the energies it held, Miles saw the surface of it, shining with potential. Most of it has been coated with a stronger material, ready to be assimilated into his own strength. Some of it came from powerful beings he’d beaten, and some of it formed naturally from being exposed to stronger forces than his own. At this moment, only a few scale-like spots were still dull, and now, the Overflow from a superior, broken core was filling in those gaps.

  It was… electrifying. It felt amazing. Whenever a dull area was plated with the superior material, a jolt of energy would flow out of his core, refreshing his body and soul. A first spot was patched. Then three. Then five. And a handful of seconds later, Miles realized that his core was fully, perfectly clad in Overflow, and as soon as the realization hit him, the process began, and the air hummed around him.

  He was moving on to the next tier.

  A powerful pulse blasted out of his core, instantly agitating the surrounding mana and destabilizing his Veil. He sensed the halos begin to manifest behind his back, the consequences of his own core affecting the surrounding mana, but Miles had worked too hard on his Veil to have it fall away that easily, and as he stabilized the technique that hid his core, he watched as the coating of bright magic sunk into its walls, reinforcing it and empowering it. The process was consuming a decent portion of his mana, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle, and approximately five minutes later, the process cooled off, leaving him with a freshly empowered core, which officially made him into a tier-30 delver.

  Tier-30 after clearing the 30th floor. Nice, he thought as he turned his attention to the two awaiting orbs floating in front of him. His brows furrowed.

  Wait… two?

  As if to answer him, a prompt popped in front of him.

  Quest: Custodian Initiation - completed

  Description: Reach floor 30 and triumph over the boss challenge.

  Limitation: You cannot leave the Dungeon. To forfeit this quest and leave the Dungeon, you must nominate a replacement to take over your position. The Custodial Skill: [Respawn Protocol] would be severely downgraded, and all knowledge of the Custodial nomination would be censored.

  Riiight… the quest.

  Miles blinked. He had nearly forgotten about it. It felt like it had been decades since he last looked at it. In a way it had just been replaced by ‘Reach floor 30, beat the boss, and you’ll get out.’ It slipped his mind that this quest was how it all had started. Then he noticed the new line that had been added to his interface

  Reward: Custodial Key

  Miles stared at the line, then reaching for the first orb of white light, it dispelled, and an iron-wrought key fell in his hand.

  Huh?

  Miles sensed a question wafting out of the key, and he immediately understood its nature. Accepting the key’s will, it dissolved into motes and sunk into his chest. Turning his eyes inward, he saw it floating right outside of his Skills, orbiting his core along with his other Soulbound items.

  “I still think that’s some impressive work,” floated in the clear voice of Hazel. “For a human. Remind me, who taught you how to veil your core again?”

  Miles rubbed at his face as he tried to decipher what the key did for a few extra seconds before he shook his head. Turning toward the slowly dissolving witch, he grinned. “There’s nothing to remember, Hazel. I’ve never told you.”

  Hazel gave him a wink as her form continued to break down. “Can’t blame an old gal’ for trying. So? Is that it? Ready to see the outside world again?”

  Miles grinned, leaned back on his hands. “I can’t wait.”

  The witch nodded and brushed off her dusty robes casually. “And how long do you think it’ll take you before you come back down?”

  Miles’ smile slipped, and he gave the witch a sidelong glance. “… a while. I’ve been in here for a long time. It’s time for a nice, long break.”

  Hazel shrugged. “If you say so.”

  A grumble escaped his lips and he leaned forward, dusting off his hands. “Well. You know as well as I do that I’ll have to do a few delves. Considering the lack of mana up there… I could always run a few errands. After all, I’m still a courier.”

  Hazel continued her obnoxious, innocent nodding.

  “This has nothing to do with the ‘Call’,” he added. “I can take a break outside of the Dungeon.”

  “Sure sure sure,” she said innocently. Then looking down at her injured form, her face morphed into fake fatigue as she tiredly looked up at him. “Well, I’m gonna go rest my weary bones.”

  “You don’t have bones.”

  “Now that’s just rude,” she grumbled, perfectly audible. Then she gave a cheeky grin and wink. “See you soon, Miles.”

  He glared at her, but he couldn’t help the corner of his lips from lifting. “See you later, Miss Hazel.”

  The witch gave him one last annoyed click as her throat and jaw dissolved into motes of purple and green lights, and a beat later, she disappeared, returning to wherever it was her consciousness resided when she wasn’t summoned.

  Turning his attention back to the key and shoving away Hazel’s needling question asude, Miles mumbled. “What are you for?” he asked, turning the old iron key around his fingers for a few seconds. It was Soulbound. Linked to his soul, so he didn’t have issues channeling his mana into it. But nothing happened when he did.

  Miles shrugged, then dismissed it and let it return within his soul, where it floated along with his other Soulbound items. He’d figure it out later. He still had plenty to do. Reaching toward the second challenge reward, he braced.

  “What would this be? A Skill? An item? Something else?”

  The magic slipped through his fingers and into his chest, and following with his inner sight, he saw it float about the shining constructs of orbiting symbols that were his Skills for a few seconds before it wrapped itself tightly around three of them.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  A fusion, then, he thought, and a second later, the information floated in his mind, asking for his permission to apply the change.

  Titanhide (Epic) + Slipstream Step (Epic) + Giant’s Strength (Epic) → The Courier Moves. The World Makes Way (Transcendent)

  Accept?

  With an eager smile, Miles accepted and stretched his hands above his head as fireworks went off in his stomach. It was straining, and it was wrecking havoc in his soul, but he’d already had his fair share of fusions, so he didn’t need to give the process too much of his attention and instead, he considered having a quick meal as a pang of hunger made itself known, but then his eyes drifted toward the fallen demon and he sighed.

  “Better get that over with first”, he grumbled as he got up. His steps felt light, echoing in the empty chamber, and as he looked around at the stone walls of the challenge room, he realized that Hazel’s words might have a little truth to them. While he wasn’t about to miss the Dungeon and its annoying politics, he couldn’t see himself never coming back down, either. He would miss the challenges. The mind-boggling sights. The excitement of arriving in a new floor and uncovering its mysteries.

  Eventually, he’d need to get past this room and see what comes after, but it won’t be today.

  Coming to a stop in front of the demon’s corpse, he spoke up. “[Field Agent Requisition.]”

  A magic-wrought, blue leather-bound notebook fell into his outstretched hand. Its surface was coated in glowing blue runes, and opening it, Miles flipped past Hazel’s dim page and past George’s inert one to find the new empty page he had earned a few months ago. Next, he put his palm against the gaping wound in the demon’s chest. He hadn’t needed to lean down much, considering the size of the demon, then straightening up, he put his bloody palm on the empty page, and hoped.

  Come on, don’t say no, he said, eying the demon. “I won fair and square. And if you don’t join now, then I’ll keep badgering you until you do.”

  He didn’t know if his words mattered, but hey, they couldn’t hurt either.

  The notebook pulsed, a wave of invisible magic radiating outward, and a moment later, the form of the demon lit up. The glow pulsed, like a heartbeat that matched the now glowing blood on the page, and with a final, glorious sigh, the magic left the demon and floated into the page.

  “Welcome to the team,” Miles said as he smiled over the blood-red symbols over the page. Just like George’s, the page was inert, signifying Ashirruk wasn’t ready to be summoned. “I’m gonna have to think of a new name for you,” Miles mused as he shut the book down before dismissing it. After all, he couldn’t go around using the real bosses’ names around. The names of his summons were pretty infamous. At least the first two.

  Not that many delvers made it to this depth.

  “Something that start with A. Adam? Alex? Alan? Ash?”

  Miles shook his head. He’ll figure that at a later time, preferably with the demon itself. For now, he just pointed his palm at the corpse and spoke another Skill. “[Safe Extraction]”

  Threads of blue magic sprang out of his hand and latched onto the demon’s ruined chest for a beat before spreading out, scanning the corpse for anything valuable or magically charged. Unfortunately, for such a powerful creature, not much was left to recover because of its suicidal attack. The flesh was mostly intact, but nearly everything magically charged had been ruined.

  Still, the looting threads still managed to find a few remnants. A group of threads extracted a fragment of its core from the monster’s abdomen, while others wrenched free a still-smoldering horn. Damaged, but salvageable. Finally, the remaining threads retrieved the sword, and the three items were presented to him.

  Next time I’ll have to kill him before he detonates, he thought as he stored the loot in his side satchel. He didn’t really need to interact with the bag to access his vault, but it was a good habit to keep. Less of a chance of people asking questions. Looking down at the leather bag, he smiled as he tapped it. I have enough loot to last me lifetimes if I keep things modest. Enough stuff to sell and to work with. I got sugar cane seeds and cuttings, hundreds of pounds of ingredients and ores. I got a lot of fruits and seeds that could be found in the first thirty floors. Even some roasted coffee. But I’d like to eventually grow and roast my own. I want to grow everything I’d need.

  Miles dipped into his pouch and hummed for a couple of seconds before he pulled out a still hot plate of rice and chicken curry. He sat down crossed legged, grabbed a spoon and dug in, taking a second to enjoy the first bite.

  “Holy crap that’s good.”

  Miles ate silently for a couple of minutes, enjoying the incredibly fragrant and spicy dish, then slowly, his thoughts drifted back to his projects.

  I’ll need to figure out a spot where to open up shop. I’m gonna need space to grow my stuff.

  Back on Earth, before all of this got started, his mom had often said the quality of produce was of the utmost importance. It was one of those principles she lived by. She’d often say it to her staff when Miles would sit and play his handheld console as she’d work on her baking business.

  Miles slowed mid-bite. Even to this day, decades later, when he thought of home, he always thought of the bakery. He hadn’t managed to find the way back to Earth. Maybe he will, eventually. But in the meantime, he’d re-create something like it here.

  Focusing back on the logistics, he continued eating. While he had enough supplies to get started, he’d need to have a good and reliable source of produce sooner or later.

  Just need to hire a few folks. Find a Shadow and get myself a new identity so I don’t get ripped off at the exit. Find the land. And be discreet. At least while I’m setting up. Because once words goes out that I’m growing a couple of their private crops, they are not going to be happy. But I should be ready by then, and they can get stuffed, he thought as he sighed with satisfaction at his empty plate.

  “I needed that.”

  Wiping his mouth, Miles got up and stretched, considering his next steps.

  “I’m pretty much done here,” he said, eyes on the ethereal gold stairs that had appeared at the end of the chamber, then at the platform that would send him back to the surface, and he couldn’t help the grimace that twisted his face for a moment. “My exit’s going to be messy. But I’m not wasting months to climb back the slow route. Alright. Let’s get those two out,” he spoke as he pulled one of the Souldbound items orbiting his core.

  In its inactive form, the Mask of Embers was large enough to cover his eyes and nose, glowing red and orange as if made from solid fire. When he put it on, the flames spread outward, blurring the lines of his face and turning his hair into a bonfire. But that wasn’t all. The mask hid his identity and shielded him from scrying. Even now, he wasn’t sure exactly how it worked—only that when he wore it, divination magic recognized him as someone else entirely, a false self that vanished the instant he removed it. A Seeker with divination spells could even use his blood while he wore it and still find nothing. Once removed, that same blood turned inert, unable to link to either him or the artifact.

  The Mask of Embers was a priceless artifact. No matter how powerful or crafty an enchanting Seeker or crafter became, Dungeon-forged items were simply a step above everything else.

  With the mask on, Miles confirmed the integrity of his Veil, and taking a second to center himself, he reached into the satchel at his side and from his vault, he pulled the first form out. The translucent, glowing rectangular box floated out and gently came to rest in front of him, revealing the sleeping features of Caspian.

  The fellow Torchbearer was a well-built and tall man that somehow managed to look smaller thanks to the massive traveling bag he lugged around. Pots and pans hung from it on one side, and more cooking and butchering utensils on the other.

  Next, he pulled out Ilyon, a young-looking man in luxurious green robes, and a groan escaped the back of his throat as the weight of the delvers was removed from his soul. Caspian, while certainly pleasant to have around with the reinvigorating meals he’d prepare, had been significantly weaker than him, which made him light to carry. Ilyon on the other hand was heavy on his soul. Being a Seeker with a core in the mid twenties, the healer was not easy to lug around.

  “That’s better,” he mumbled as he eyed the duo he’d rescued. Then taking a step toward the Torchbearer, he poked Caspian’s blue, translucent box, and the stasis enchantment dissolved into motes. The cook’s eyes fluttered open as he took in a deep breath and Caspian took him in for a second before his gaze floated past him toward the corpse of Ashirruk, then finally at the glowing stairway and teleportation circle at the end of the chamber.

  “Gods below…” the man breathed out. “You… did it?”

  Miles just smiled and nodded. “You’re free, Torchbearer Caspian. As promised.”

  It was a little odd being formal with the man, considering they’d been friendlier in older loops, but after discussing it with the older versions of him and Ilyon, it was just safer for everyone to keep this part of his identity hidden. After all, there was a bounty on the Ashen Wanderer’s head, and just in case someone asked the wrong question of the two when they’d exit the Dungeon, plausible deniability was just safer.

  He could have also taken them out as Miles instead of the Ashen Wanderer, but that’d attract way too much attention, and it would come with a whole other set of complications. Especially when it’d come to explaining his absence and the length of his delve. He wanted to start anew, and while he knew that attention was inevitable in the long term, he didn’t need it to happen on day one. Once he was out on the Surface, as Miles, he could put away the mask and try to keep a low profile for as long as he could manage but for now, he had to play a part.

  Caspian turned toward him and bowed his head. “You did. Thank you.”

  Miles just nodded back, and waited for a moment, but it seemed the man was a bit too shocked to realize he was being waited on. “Can you provide the agreed upon reward, Caspian.”

  The man jumped, and a sheepish smile spread on his face as he pulled his backpack and put it down, then winced. “I wasn’t sure we’d get here, but please don’t reveal that I was the one who provided these.”

  “Of course I would not,” assuaged Miles as he watched the man pull vials and wrapped bags, one after the other, until he found the ones he searched for. Putting them aside and taking the time to neatly re-arrange everything back in its rightful spot, Caspian got up and handed Miles the vials, and the seeds jiggled against the enchanted glass.

  “I have the Arcanth and Myrrshade varieties. I’m sure you’ll eventually manage to get your hands on the others. They like warm and humid climates. But if there’s enough mana around, they won’t care so much. Anything decent below the tenth floor would see it grow and fruit,” the cook explained, and while Miles had already known this, he just nodded along as he smiled under his mask at the pale coffee grains.

  Arcanth was the preferred variety of mages, as the coffee had mana-regenerating properties. Myrrshade was sought after as well, as it also was a favorite of mages and artists, thanks to its heady and mind-stimulating properties.

  And I already have the Scentleaf and Ironroot varieties. I’m pretty set, Miles thought with a smile as he eyed the fresh coffee grains.

  “I know their sale and exchange are… forbidden. But while they’re rare and treasures in and of themselves, I still feel like I’m underpaying you,” said Caspian after a second. “You saved my life, sir Wanderer.”

  Miles looked up and refrained from tapping the man on the shoulder. There wasn’t much he could say that wouldn’t reveal the loop or at least hint at it, but he liked Caspian. He was a hardworking and decent man who’d had the misfortune of joining a party that didn’t care much for Torchbearers, especially in the dangerous territories that could be found below the 20th. Something Miles had personally experienced himself, a long time ago.

  “Don’t worry about it, Caspian. This is plenty. Just… keep my secret, if you can. And maybe we’ll meet again someday.”

  Miles would love to get the man for his projects, but doing so would tip off his identity. He knew the man was trustworthy, but things were going to be messy early on so he’d better play it safe.

  “Well, if you ever find yourself near the Skygate, ask around for me,” the man smiled. “And for a fee, I might get you a lead or two on the other varieties.”

  Miles smiled as he approached the still frozen form of the Seeker. “I will keep it in mind,” he simply said, then poked the enchantment, and the Seeker’s eyes snapped open. Unlike Caspian, Ilyon was much faster on the intake, and while he already noted the exit and his unfrozen companion, his eyes couldn’t help but linger on the fallen demon.

  “Ashirruk… he’s….”

  The healer was frozen for a second, then he blinked away from the corpse. “Do you require any healing, Ashen Wanderer?”

  Miles shook his head. He’d been familiar enough with the demon’s moves by now that he escaped all but a couple of kicks and elbows, which he still took on his shield. His arm and shoulder were a little sore, but it wasn’t anything bad. “I’ve drunk a couple of potions already. I’m alright.”

  Ilyon straightened up and bowed. “In that case, I’m deeply grateful. And while I know you refused payment, please accept this,” the man said, reaching into a hidden pocket in his satchel before presenting a gold coin with a green gem encrusted in its center. “This is a Wishmark from the Great Guild I represent, Hollow’s Wind. They are untraceable, and no one can ask where it came from and how it came to you. A token of thanks, for saving my life. And if you’re ever near the Sandgate or in the territory of the guild, you will be greeted as an honored guest.”

  Miles greedily eyed the token, and Caspian, now having gone pale, was frozen still, eyes wide as he stared at the gem-encrusted coin. While the specifics had never come up, Miles did guess that Ilyon must have been a big deal, considering the value of his gear and his general bearing. He didn’t know he was this high up in a Great Guild, though.

  Come to think of it, I never managed to ferret out why he’d been abandoned on that stasis trap on the 27th. I know the Pyramid is a nightmare of a floor to get through, but the circumstances were weird, Miles thought. Then again, until now, he hadn’t earned the man’s trust just yet. When he had asked those questions, he had not yet proven that he could get Ilyon out of the Dungeon.

  Reaching forward, he took the coin. “Thank you,” he said. Miles hadn’t known a Wishmark had been on the table. And he could use it. Especially once his hidden identity began to crack. The favor of a Great Guild was nothing to scoff at. So he accepted it. Maybe he’d never need it. But better to have it on hand than not.

  “Now I feel like I ripped you off,” mumbled Caspian, and Miles couldn’t help but chuckle, which took the two by surprise and somewhere in his chest, his chest twinged a little. “Don’t worry about it, either of you. But I believe our business is done here. Would any of you need help getting past the Surveyors? Think they’d give you trouble?”

  Caspian shrugged, while Ilyon stilled for a fraction of a second before shaking his head. “I’m a Mender. They wouldn’t dare.”

  “And I’m a Torchbearer. They wouldn’t care. Then again, they might have some questions considering where we’re coming from,” Caspian grinned, eyes shining at the circle that would teleport them back to where they entered the Dungeon from. “So it’s time, eh?”

  “Go with peace,” Miles said to the two. They gave him a half a bow, then both gingerly walked toward the lit up circle, completely ignoring the set of glowing stairs past it that would have taken them down to the next floor.

  Ilyon stepped into the circle first, then it was Caspian’s turn who gave Miles one last wave, and then they were gone.

  “And that’s done with,” he said with sigh as he removed the mask. Then his grin came back with force as he tip-toed his way to the exit. “I’m free!” he shouted, voice echoing, as he stopped at the edge of the runic circle, and still in a grand mood, he put on a nondescript hooded cloak as he walked toward the exit himself. He knew they weren’t leaving at the same gates, and he knew it’d be unlikely that the two would turn on him, but better to get a move on, just in case.

  With the cape hiding his features and clothing, Miles stepped into the glowing circle and closed his eyes.

  “Outside world, here I come,” Miles announced with a smile as the final report floated in front of his eyes, officially marking that his delve was over.

  It was time for a well deserved break.

  Name: Miles Callahan

  Archetype: Torchbearer

  Dungeon Rank: Initiate → Master

  Core tier: 2 → 30

  Time spent: 35,569 days

  Skills:

  Enhanced Strength (Rare) → The Courier Moves. The World Makes Way (Transcendent)

  Enlarged Storage (Rare) → My Vault, Wherever and Whenever I Roam (Transcendent)

  (New) The Courier Accepts All (Transcendent)

  (New) Return to Sender (Legendary)

  (New) Safe Extraction (Epic)

  (New) Field Agent Requisition [3 Agents] (Custodial)

  (New) Respawn Protocol [44 Days] (Custodial)

  Soulbound Items:

  Mask of Embers

  Starseeker, the Solar Spear

  Warden's Promise

  The Blooming Cauldron

  Custodial Key